


Home Is Where The Heart Is

by Perryels



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24232195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perryels/pseuds/Perryels
Summary: "I'm your home?""Well, yes. It only makes sense, right? Because my heart is always with you."A collection of Kenma and Kuroo's soft moments.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> KuroKen makes me weep, I—（πーπ）
> 
> also hello ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ this is my first sort of fic for the fandom. I’ve wanted to write KuroKen forever and even though I’ve kept tabs on the anime since it aired, it was only recently that I got more invested in it (just a liiiiiittle bit), so here I am with an offering for this beautiful pair! I say ‘sort of fic’ because I really mean a lot of bite-sized pieces, drabbles, ficlets, headcanons, scenarios – you know what I mean. 
> 
> Enjoy ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo's thoughts when Kenma finally, _finally_ moves in with him after an agonizing year of university without him, and it sinks into him (like, reeeaaalllly sinks into him as if he's been living the past few days in a dream he is now waking up from) for the first time that yes, Kenma is here. With him.

To Kuroo, home is tapping fingers and the faint sound of an RPG playing in the background he can hear all the way from the bedroom when he arrives, slipping off his shoes and setting his satchel and all other things down after a long afternoon of extracurricular work. It’s the quiet padding of bare feet on wooden floors, scrambling to find its way around the (still) unfamiliar four walls of the apartment. It’s cold sheets in all corners of the bed, but the center where weight settles in and the creases begin.

Home is the same dark roots and blond tips, only lengthier, tied into a half-bun on warm days and let loose on most days, slipping through Kuroo’s fingers like fine silk like it always had. It’s a pair of smaller but capable hands Kuroo has held for so many years, it molds into his own calloused hands perfectly. It’s a tiny lithe frame he’s stood next to and laid down side-by-side with, knowing it practically from inside out. 

To Kuroo, home is here.

To Kuroo, home is Kenma.

“Ah, Kuro, you’re back,” Kenma greets when he sees Kuroo by the entrance as he shuffles into the kitchen for a glass of apple juice.

As if snapped out of his reverie, Kuroo’s thoughts come to a halt. At that moment, the reality finally sinks into him.

“I’m back,” Kuroo replies softly, a smile just as soft on his lips.

**. . .**

**extra:**

“You getting around okay?”

“Yeah. But I still mix up the bathroom and utility closet.”  
  
“Maybe we should put a sign until you get used to it?”

“Sure.”


	2. 15%

Some afternoons, Kenma finds, are spent semi-idle on the couch—the teal-colored couch and the sole anti-neutral furniture he and Kuroo owned, which Kuroo picked out himself because it’ll give their apartment ‘a little bit of life’, but they both know it's mostly because it’d been the only one they could afford that fit the two of them decently (but only when Kuroo’s legs were curled)—that’s placed right smack in the middle of the living room facing the balcony (not the TV) so when the blinds are up and the sliding doors are open, the wind wafts in perfectly in their direction.

It’s Kenma’s favorite kind of afternoon. The slow and quiet afternoons when it’s him and his game and Kuroo in their comfortable little bubble, not having to worry about preparing for a report or working on projects. 

Kenma’s not-so-favorite afternoons, on the other hand, are the busy kinds with notes strewn across the coffee table they sometimes forget has a glass top. When Kuroo’s books are no longer in neat stacks but are spread out in front of him as he flicked page after page, collecting references he later turned into essays. When voice recordings of the day’s lecture broke the silence and Kenma paced around (it helps him concentrate since the only time he can ever concentrate when sitting still is when he was playing video games or coming up with volleyball tactics—which he hasn’t done since high school) barefoot and tablet in hand as their mugs remain filled to the brim with coffee (and too much milk; Kuroo’s) and cold chocolate (with 70% cocoa; Kenma’s), soon to be downed for an all-nighter.

Today is a favorite afternoon and Kenma indulges.

He’s playing Super Mario and is slouched on his seat, an elbow propped on the armrest while the other hangs just above Kuroo’s forehead (Kenma is composed 85% of the time so he’s pretty confident he won’t accidentally break Kuroo’s nose for whatever reason that might startle him). Kuroo has his head rested on Kenma’s lap, the only cushion he’ll ever need, as he skims through his notes. Even though it’s a Friday and he basically has two more weekends at his disposal. But Kuroo’s logic is if he studies today, he won’t have to study tomorrow. It’s never failed him.

“I miss you,” Kuroo says all-too suddenly. And _that’s_ the 15% that makes Kenma’s composure crumble instantly (Kuroo’s nose is safe). Kenma physically stills and Kuroo can actually feel the muscles in Kenma’s thighs tense under his head. He chuckles at the back of his throat.

Kenma’s fingers are frozen over the buttons of his DS and he watches Mario fall to his death. Kenma should be used to it by now, Kuroo and his notions towards hinting affection, but it always seems to catch him off-guard. Kuroo’s never embarrassed and it’s been that way even before they considered themselves as partners beyond the court but in life. The only difference is that now, Kenma can’t shrug it off as Kuroo’s lighthearted teasing, ‘ _he’s saying it ‘cause he’s my childhood best friend’_ anymore. Now it makes Kenma’s heart take massive leaps, aware of the depth Kuroo’s words hold.

Kenma restarts his game, recovering from the dip his stomach just made. “I’m always here though.”

“I miss you anyway,” Kuroo replies simply.

“I…” Kenma begins, trying his best to act casual (but is desperate for that 15%) and takes a peek at Kuroo. Even with the easy smile he has on, Kenma knows Kuroo is serious. “…Miss you too,” Kenma continues and hides behind his game again. “And I’m never leaving.”

Kuroo briefly moves Kenma’s DS away from his face and brushes his cheek tenderly with the back of his index. “I know. I’m never leaving, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy delving into their tender moments. A lot of subtle acts of affection and sweet nothings. Especially in their lives as university students-living in together-in their natural habitat. Also those tiny details in their daily life.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos (´▽`ʃƪ)♡


	3. Jinx

A lot of the times, Kuroo will look up at the sky.

It’s when he and Kenma are walking home together, side by side like they’ve always had for several years, taking familiar steps along the streets they can so easily navigate with their eyes closed. They’ll make quick stops at the convenience store around the corner when Kenma feels like he’s in the mood for store-bought apple pie—the ones that came in tiny packets and heated in microwaves. And as they walk out of the neon glow of the shop and into their dimly lit neighborhood, Kuroo will crank his neck up that he will more often than not end up straining (but for good reason) as he stares up at the navy blanket and the stars that litter it like fine dust.

An airplane passes right above his head and Kuroo thinks of that song that was famous one time. He raises his hands, captures it in his fingers in a frame and whispers something in the air. Kenma notices every time, of course. He doesn’t say anything but quietly thinks it’s an odd thing Kuroo does—and has been doing even as a kid. It was something Kenma never understood in spite of all the walks they’ve had together. Kenma thought Kuroo would eventually grow out of it. But quite frankly, Kuroo himself thought so too.

“You always do that. I never understand why,” Kenma says curiously as though analyzing something he can’t make sense of. For such a simple action, he just can’t seem to figure it out. With observant eyes he looks at Kuroo, then at Kuroo’s fingers that’s still up in a box until the airplane glides out of their line of sight.

“There aren’t enough shooting stars in the night sky and one man cannot simply have enough wishes,” Kuroo says it like an intellectual and gives Kenma a smug little smile.

“Is this one of your cheesy clauses?” Kenma frowns with a sort of distaste Kuroo knows by heart. It’s the same one Kenma gives him whenever he makes his mandatory pre-game captainly speeches. And Kuroo finds it amusing how much secondhand embarrassment Kenma gets from it. _He really doesn’t like these things._

“Maybe,” Kuroo replies far too cheekily. “Do you ever make any wishes, Kenma?”

Kenma contemplates for a moment then shakes his head. “Not really. There’s no need to, I suppose.”

Kuroo is deflated. “Well, you’re no fun.”

“There’s no need to make a wish if what you wanted already came true, right?”

“I guess…” Kuroo replies thoughtfully. Silence fills them as they continue their walk. And then the gears in Kuroo’s brain start turning. He abruptly stops. It startles Kenma and makes him almost drop the apple pie in his hands. “Wait. What _did_ you want???”

Kenma looks at his apple pie, at Kuroo, then at the road, and resumes the walk. “…Something.”

When Kenma gave one-worded replies, Kuroo knows he already has his answer. He isn’t getting one. “You aren’t telling me, are you?” he catches up to Kenma with a giant step.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” Kenma states.

“You won’t jinx it.”

“Will to.”

“Will not,” Kuroo.

“Will to,” Kenma.

“…”

“Will not.”

To be with Kuroo is something Kenma would never risk jinxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m also on tumblr, [chuhyas](https://chuhyas.tumblr.com/tagged/writing), where I post more writing for kuroken and other ships (◠‿◠✿)


	4. Scratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapters are going to be a couple of my intimate headcanons for themヽ(๏∀๏ )ﾉ 
> 
> All rated M. But I’ll still be giving a heads up on each chapter just in case!

Kenma makes a conscious effort to keep himself from scratching Kuroo’s back because he knows how erratic he could get. How deep he could sink his nails in if he lets himself go—a 360-degree turn from his calculated and feather-light tosses on court—and the last thing Kenma wants to do is hurt the other.

When Kuroo notices Kenma’s fingers twitch and claw into something that isn’t there, Kuroo tells Kenma to wrap his arms around him.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you, Kuro,” Kenma says in between gasps. 

“You…won’t…” Kuroo assures after a grunt, his own fingers digging into the mattress beneath them. 

Kenma refuses, shaking his head as he clutches into nothing, nail leaving red crescents on his own palm. Kuroo manages to get a sigh out in the midst of what they’re doing because it’s so like Kenma to be stubborn, even when it came to this. So Kuroo takes Kenma’s hands, one after the other, places a gentle kiss on his fingers and plants each one over his nape. “It’s okay,” he says and smiles and Kenma knows it really _is_ okay.

The next push Kuroo gives makes Kenma writhe underneath him, and he feels blunt nails rake against his back, down his spine, tearing his skin apart. He winces but he’s smug, _this is what Kenma means, huh._

“Better?” he asks. Kenma bites down on his bottom lip and nods.

Kuroo’s positive there will be marks left for days, but they’re Kenma’s marks.


	5. Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rated M**

Kuroo often tells Kenma he wants to hear his voice because for some reason Kenma is against it and chooses to remain as silent as he can be—as much as he can keep in. 

“Let me hear your voice, Kenma,” Kuroo would say, but Kenma will only shake his head. 

“It’s too embarrassing.”

“It’s not. C’mon,” Kuroo says, leaving a lingering kiss on Kenma’s mouth.

When Kenma still resisted, Kuroo will take it to himself to be more vocal, grunts bouncing off the walls of the bedroom, hisses sharp, sucking air in between gritted teeth, heavy breathes, groans low, throaty as it escaped his parted lips, hypersensitive to the feeling of Kenma in his entirety as he chanted his name like a prayer. _‘Kenma…hhsss…Ken-maa…ahhh…’_

This is what finally breaks Kenma and he cries out, high-pitched, voice unsteady and desperate. _‘Kuro…nghh…Kuro…Kuro…’_

Then they reach their peak in chorus.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Kuroo chuckles, dropping beside Kenma, flushed and sticky with sweat. 

“Still embarrassing…” Kenma replies, voice muffled over the pillow he hides behind.


End file.
